Habits & Contradictions
by BadMagick
Summary: Dean Winchester enters the life of a wayward female hunter for two reasons: to piss her off and make her love him. Dean x OC.


**Habits & Contradictions: **Chapter one.**  
**

* * *

_I so need a better job._

Skillfully climbing her way up a three-story apartment complex, Rainie successfully landed flat on her boots on a balcony. Much to her luck, the police hadn't thought of locking the sliding door, considering that the main occupants were dead. She opened it, walked inside, and wrinkled her nose at the smell of dried blood. Stepping around a few overturned pieces of furniture, Rainie examined the blatant carnage that had taken place. It was a shame what had happened, a pity she couldn't stop it, but she'd make sure whatever caused this wouldn't kill again.

A vengeful spirit, she realized. This was later confirmed by doing some necessary digging into the deceased's former life, posing as a FBI agent to get the close neighbors talking. Not everyone was so easily convinced by Rainie's fake FBI badge; she was too young, barely twenty-one, and didn't come across as sophisticated enough. But it did work in most cases, such as this one. Rainie stuck to her false identity as firmly as possible.

When she learned of the spirit's background, why it was doing what it was doing, how it died - the works; she visited its headstone at a local cemetery. This was the part she hated most. Digging up the grave, in the middle of the night. She took a heavy shovel and started the tedious task of digging, relieved when she finally heard the familiar pang of metal striking the casket. Next came salting and burning the corpse, closing the casket, and burying it once again.

Rainie returned to her motel room after a job done well. She hit the road the following morning.

The lonely life of hunting; Rainie had to remind herself she had a purpose for doing this, or she would have quit a long time ago. The only high points to this life were the traveling, the saving people, and of course, the chance to find the very man who had abandoned her for this job: her father. The low points, at times, were too low. Death, evil, and the solitude that came with all that traveling had hardened Rainie into someone she didn't want to be. A cold person. She could look at dead bodies now without blinking an eye, sympathy now turned into indifference. People died around her, all the time, and she got used to it.

It was a long drive back to Nebraska, but Rainie had predetermined the perfect soundtrack. Godsmack blasted through the speakers of her rusted over, hoodless car as she set her sights for the Harvelle's RoadHouse.

_Do like I told you, stay away from me _

_Never misunderstand me_

_Keep away from me_

Music. It's what got Rainie through the days without a single friend to talk to.

* * *

Sleek black doors to a 1967 Chevy Impala closed. Sam and Dean Winchester strode up to the familiar RoadHouse, but before they reached the entrance Dean abruptly stopped.

"You hear that?"

"Hear what, Dean?"

Dean turned around and scanned the area, his eyes turning to slits. "The sound of trashy mainstream rock playing."

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion, and then both brothers saw the ugliest car pull up into the lot. The faded red paint was peeling, rusted splotches left to take its place. Dean pitied the damn ride. He already imagined himself stripping it clean, repainting it, adding new tires, silver hub caps; his mind raced with ideas. The driver had a mob of black curly hair; which was all he could really see at the moment, just curls everywhere.

She shut off the car and the music stopped with it. Dean could recognize that Alice in Chains imitation of a band anywhere. Godsmack.

The car, the wild hair, the music taste - all very horrible things in Dean's eyes. It also made him curious.

Who was this woman and where did she come from?

She climbed out of her car and slung a dufflebag over her shoulder, marching up the lot. Dean purposely stood in her way.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"Move."

Rainie elbowed him out of her path and went inside. The place was typically empty in the morning time, but crawling with hunters at night. Rainie preferred visiting during the day. Though she was desperate for company, she didn't need it from male hunters in search of a fun night.

"I'm back," Rainie announced herself.

"Welcome back. What can I get you?" Ellen Harvelle moved behind the bar. She often supplied Rainie with information, and took on a bit of a motherly role for Rainie, who hadn't seen her real mother since she chose to become a hunter.

"Water. Just water would be nice-"

"Hey, I asked you a question!" That guy from before burst in, pointing an accusing finger at Rainie. She turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"Dean, don't," the taller one came in, too. His kind face and disarming tone caused Rainie to think of him as the more sensible one. He did not go up to a female hunter just shouting.

"Dean, what's the matter?" Ellen frowned.

"Yeah, Deano, what's the problem?" Rainie's peach-colored lips curled with a mocking smirk.

"Don't call me Deano," he warned her and looked to Ellen, "Who's she? Friend of yours?"

"I'm a hunter," Rainie answered, vexed into just admitting this to the total stranger, "Now who the hell are you?"


End file.
